Junkyard Pirate Page 9

  “I had hoped to avoid conflict.” She sighed in resignation. “I still do not understand your reference to a honeypot.”

  “Read Winnie the Pooh and get back to me,” he said, unhelpfully. “I’m giving you access to my retirement funds. You do know that money is supposed to last me for the remainder of my life, right?”

  “Our lives are bound, Albert Jenkins,” she said. “As you prosper, so do I. As you suffer, so do I.”

  “I suppose that’s good enough,” AJ said. “Now what’s first on our list? And remember, I need to pick up Greybeard.”

  “You know you’re racking up quite a bill?” the ride service driver asked. So far, AJ had stopped at six different stores and filled the vehicle with electronic parts and metal stock for milling. Even with two stops for fast food and Beverly governing his metabolism, he was exhausted.

  “Last stop,” AJ said. “I need to pick up my dog from the vet.”

  “No animals,” the man said. “I’m not cleaning dog crap outta my ride.”

  AJ, having anticipated the man’s reluctance, pulled a fifty from his wallet and waved it in the air. “If he craps in your car, I’ll give you a second one of these.”

  The driver swerved as he grabbed for the money, but AJ was faster. “Don’t get greedy. Get me and Greybeard home, help me unload, and you’ll have a nice, fat tip.”

  “You didn’t say nothing about helping you unload,” the man said, although so far, he’d been amenable enough to help AJ with the wheelchair.

  “That’s fine, take me home,” AJ said, pushing the fifty into his wallet.

  “Make it seventy-five,” the man said.

  “You know that’s elder abuse, right?” AJ said with a sardonic grin on his face.

  “Best deal you’re getting from me.”

  “Fine. Seventy-five, but you have to carry the dog.”

  It was after five o’clock when they finally returned to AJ’s home. Diego was leaning against his front door, knees pulled up to his chest. Next to Diego sat a large cardboard box with a local furniture store’s logo emblazoned on the side.

  “Want to help us, Diego?” AJ called from the ride-service vehicle’s open window.

  “Won’t change our deal,” the driver grumbled.

  AJ pushed open the car door and lifted his legs around. Shockingly, his foot tingled when it bounced against the frame of the door. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, grabbed the door frame and leveraged himself to a standing position, still supporting most of his weight with the vehicle.

  “Mr. AJ!” Diego shouted, sprinting the final yards down the wheelchair ramp and to the car just as AJ started to slump. Wrapping his arms around AJ’s waist, Diego steadied the older man. The help was just enough to allow AJ to pull up and lock his knees.

  “Thanks, kid. I got it now,” AJ said, sounding brusquer than he’d have liked.

  Diego stepped back but didn’t let go, assessing AJ’s balance. “You are getting stronger, Mr. AJ.”

  “Grab the chair, but let me stand here a minute.” When AJ woke up in the hospital, Dr. Jayne informed him he’d never walk again. It had been a blow he’d had a hard time accepting. Beverly’s suggestion that he’d be walking at some point had sparked hope and he was surprised at how important the simple act of standing, trapped between the car’s door and frame, was.

  By the time Diego extracted the wheelchair from the vehicle’s trunk and brought it around, AJ was wearing out. With a flourish, he spun and plopped into the chair, a maneuver he couldn’t have even considered a few days previous.

  “The dog does not look well,” Diego said, pulling Greybeard from the back seat and setting him on AJ’s lap.

  “He’s sick,” AJ said, stroking the old dog’s white and gray fur. Greybeard was groggy due to the drugs given by the veterinarian but to AJ’s eyes, the dog looked like it had lost even more weight than when Diego had found him.

  “Where do you want all this crap?” The driver asked, hands akimbo.

  “Diego, take him back to the shop and unload these things onto the workbench,” AJ said, wheeling himself and Greybeard to the ramp.

  “I didn’t agree to all this,” the man said angrily. “You’re getting a one-star review, pal.”

  “Come by the house for your tip when you’re done,” AJ said without turning, the elation at his own recovery lost as he mourned the condition of the sickly dog in his lap. “BB, how about ordering a big old pizza for Diego and me? Maybe see if they have some pop for the kid.”

  Beverly appeared in a white World War II nurse’s uniform. “Certainly, AJ,” she said. “The fat content is rather on the high side, but you have exerted yourself today. May I recommend creating a bed for Greybeard with the extra blankets in the hallway closet?”

  “Sure,” AJ said, pulling a beer from the refrigerator. “I’ll have Diego help.”

  A few minutes later, the driver knocked on the closed, screen door. “You got that tip? I need to get outta here.”

  AJ set four twenties on the kitchen table and turned his back to the screen door. He wasn’t interested in arguing further with the irascible driver.

  “You said a hundred,” the man argued as he counted the twenties he picked up.

  “Sure, let me get it.” AJ rolled over to the cupboard. Reaching back, his hand came to rest on his .38 special. He set the gun in his lap next to Greybeard and then withdrew a twenty from his wallet, rolling back into the kitchen.

  “Why’s this place so empty? Somebody die?” The driver’s tone was callous as he looked around the combined kitchen and living room. AJ relished the moment when the man’s eyes fell on the gun in his lap.

  “Best you get going,” AJ said, dropping the twenty so it fluttered to the ground between them.

  “Uh, right,” the man said as he took a step forward toward the bill. He paused, held AJ’s gaze and then, apparently, thought again about their agreement. “I guess you did say seventy-five.”

  AJ shrugged. “Just leave.”

  “Asshole!” the man yelled once he was well clear of the house.

  AJ rolled back to the cupboard and replaced the gun just as Diego returned.

  “He was not a nice man,” Diego said.

  “Anything get broken?” AJ asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Diego said, picking up the twenty from the ground and offering it to AJ.

  “I’ve got some pizza coming if you’re interested,” AJ said. “And if you want to earn that twenty, how about you show up tomorrow morning. I’m working on a new project.”

  “Can I fly the drone again?” Diego asked, excitement evident in the tone of his voice.

  “Bring that chair in for me and get it unpacked,” AJ said. “Then you can take the drone out for a run.”

  “Come on, fella,” AJ urged as Greybeard limped down the ramp behind him. The previous night, he’d discovered that Greybeard preferred to walk on his own, even though the dog was in obvious pain. Reaching his workshop, AJ laid out blankets. A few minutes later, Greybeard shuffled in and settled onto his new bed.

  “Diego’s flight last night exposed a boon,” Beverly said, appearing suddenly on the workbench. She wore a white lab coat and had round-eyed welding goggles atop her frizzed hair. Before he could ask, she continued. “There is a small concentration of Fantastium near the gate. With a containment chamber and rudimentary extractor, we could easily mine it. I also have an idea for something that would give us better access to the salvage yard.”

  “Show me your plans.” AJ rolled across the workshop to grab a length of leather, long screws and an electric drill-driver.

  Beverly had donned her rocket pack and was now floating at his side. “What are you doing?”

  “Be patient,” he said, drilling one end of the leather strap to the edge of the table. Locking the wheels of his chair, he grabbed the edge of the table and with great effort pulled himself up and forward. He was pleased to discover that his legs locked and held him upright. AJ quickly snaked the lea
ther strap around his waist, being careful not to let go of the table for long. With his free hand he screwed the other side to the table.

  “You are quite determined,” Beverly said, projecting the first of three projects onto the table.

  “Reaching across my workbench while sitting in the chair is a pain in the ass.” AJ traced his finger down the plan, unconsciously licking his forefinger before turning the page. “Containment first?”

  “That’s right, AJ.” In one hand, Beverly held a plain, steel box with welds running the length of each seam.

  “Seems small.” He ran a finger beneath the exterior dimensions. “Ninety-six cubic inches isn’t much volume.”

  “After adding the containment electronics, we will end up with a reservoir of roughly three cubic inches for both Blastorium and Fantastium. We would be fortunate indeed if we filled either side to capacity.”

  AJ swigged his coffee as he re-read the plans. “Did you change your layout? I like it,” he observed. “Easier for me to do all of the cutting and grinding up front.”

  “It is unusual for a Beltigerskian to be involved in trivial construction projects,” she said. “I am learning just as you are.”

  “Trivial?”

  “There is someone in the drive,” Beverly said, turning her head toward the open door.

  “I told Diego to come over and help me this morning,” AJ said, leaning over so he could glance out the machine shed’s window. “Shit. It’s Dr. Jayne. You better hide.”

  Beverly shook her head. “My presence is a manipulation of your optic nerve. She is unable to see me.”

  AJ grinned. “Yeah, I know. Wanted to see what you’d say.”

  “You need to ask her to stop coming,” Beverly said. “Her interest in your recovery is detrimental. The Korgul are very good at what they do. I suspect she has already drawn their scrutiny.”

  “How?” AJ asked. “It’s not like I went in for testing.”

  “She recorded her last visit in a personal journal.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Human technology is not sophisticated. It appears most of your systems rely on memorized authentication for computerized files or passwords, as you call them. Dr. Jayne reuses her passwords. I simply attacked a weaker system,” she said.

  “I’m back here,” AJ yelled, hoping Jayne would hear him through the glass. When she didn’t turn, he whistled sharply.

  “Knock, knock,” Jayne called as she approached the machine shed.

  “I’ll talk to her, but you shouldn’t break into her files.”

  “Heavens, Mr. Jenkins! What are you doing?” The doctor stopped short as she reached the door.

  “Working on a project,” he said, “What’s it look like?”

  Jayne approached, intently checking him over, making him feel like a cantaloupe at a farmer’s market. “Your sclera are clear. Respiration is normal.” She reached for his wrist and searched for his pulse, finding it instantly. “Heart feels good and you’re standing upright, albeit with aid.”

  “What’s on your mind, Doc?” AJ asked.

  “I’m concerned about your rapid weight loss, Mr. Jenkins,” she said. “What are you eating?”

  “Got some in the chair there,” he said, reaching unsuccessfully for the open box of protein bars.

  “These?” she asked, plucking a bar from the box and reading its label.

  “They’re really not that bad once you get used to them. Sitting in the chair makes it hard to cook anything on the stove, so the bars are easy. And the berry flavor is by far my favorite.”

  “Is this all you’re eating?” she asked. “No wonder you’ve lost so much weight.”

  AJ smiled and munched on a bar. “You sure seem concerned, Doc,” he said. “You see something on that operating table you liked in particular?”

  “AJ!” Beverly hovered in front of him with her fists clenched. She hadn’t bothered to change her appearance beyond donning her back-mounted jet pack.

  “You boys are all the same. You know that kind of talk can get you into trouble nowadays?” A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Take off your shirt.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere!” AJ enjoyed Beverly’s mystified expression. He tugged the folds of material away from the leather strap and lifted off the shirt, which was now several sizes too big for him.

  Dr. Jayne pinched at the skin on his stomach and watched it retract. “That’s impossible.” Her hands trembled as she pulled an automatic blood pressure cuff from her coat pocket and strapped it around his wrist.

  “What’s impossible?”

  “As we age, our skin loses much of its pliability,” she said. “In my estimation, you’ve reduced your weight by thirty pounds, give or take. You should have loose skin. Instead, your abdomen looks like it belongs to a man half your age.”

  “Darn. I was going for a thirties look.”

  Jayne’s eyes snapped up to meet AJ’s, her expression flinty. “Explain how a seventy-two year old man is capable of the recovery I’m seeing? Dammit AJ, I operated on you, I’ve seen the deterioration of your organs. You shouldn’t be standing.”

  “Doc, if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,” he said.

  “Try me.”

  AJ shook his head, catching Beverly’s disapproving glare. “Thing is, I can’t. What I can tell you is, there’s no medical breakthrough here and I need you to drop it. You’ll be endangering my life if you pursue it further.”

  Jayne reeled back, looking at him as if he’d grown a third arm. “Of all the preposterous things.”

  “Thing is,” he pushed on. “I should have told you to stop coming by. I knew you wouldn’t be able to let this go.”

  “Why didn’t you?” she asked, still in disbelief. “AJ, your recovery is remarkable. You need to be studied. Do you know how many people you could help?”

  “Four,” AJ said under his breath. “You’re not understanding, Doc. This thing that happened to me isn’t repeatable. Worse yet, you exposing it will put us both in danger.”

  Jayne squinted at him and then shook her head in disbelief.

  “AJ, another vehicle has entered your property,” Beverly said.

  He leaned over and looked out into the junkyard. A heavy black SUV had parked behind Dr. Jayne’s sedan. AJ watched as a man dressed in a dark suit walked up the ramp and into the house.

  “This should be interesting.” AJ pulled his shirt back on and unscrewed the strap that held him to the workbench.

  Ten

  Up the Voltage

  “What’s all this about?” Jayne asked, following AJ’s eyes. “Are you in trouble?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” He rolled to the door and watched as the man exited his house and made his way back to the machine shed.

  “AJ, this man is under the control of Korgul,” Beverly said, having changed into a medium blue, loose-fitting coverall that resembled what NASA astronauts wore.

  “Can he detect you like you can him?” AJ asked.

  “I’m standing right here.” Dr. Jayne answered.

  “I’m afraid she’s right,” Beverly said. “The device he holds is a broad-spectrum scanner. He’ll pick up our presence if he gets within a couple yards.”

  “That’s far enough!” AJ yelled before the man could get close to the shop. “You’re on private property and I’m asking you to leave.”

  “I can’t do that.” The man stopped and pulled papers from his jacket pocket. “I’m Agent Sawyer from the FCC. I have a warrant to search the premises for illegal transmission devices.”

  “FCC doesn’t have authority to execute search warrants,” AJ scoffed.

  Sawyer froze for a moment and then blinked. AJ thought he saw a yellow film pass in front of the man’s eyes.

  “Look, pal, we can do this the hard way or the easy way,” Sawyer said. “The complaint is probably nothing. Let me run my scanner around your buildings. If I find nothing, like I’m sure I won’t, then I’ll be on my way
. Otherwise, I’m coming back with a bunch of cops and we’ll make sure we toss this place good. Probably take us a couple of weeks. You catch my drift?”

  Sawyer walked forward but Dr. Jayne intercepted him. “So, you’re performing an illegal search of this man’s residence and when he pushes back, you threaten to wreck his home? This man is a disabled American combat veteran. I’m sure the news would love to pick up a story about how the government is abusing him.” Jayne pulled out her phone and aimed it at Sawyer.

  “Ma’am, put that phone away.” Sawyer was visibly upset and continued forward with purpose.

  “There’s nothing illegal about my actions. How does this sound, for the record? Agent Sawyer of the FCC is bullying a wheelchair-bound veteran, Albert Jenkins, to allow for an illegal search,” Jayne narrated.

  “AJ, Korgul are quick to violence. You need to stop her,” Beverly said.

  “How do you stop them?” AJ raised his voice, pretending he was talking to Jayne.

  “Disable the host, but remember, the host is a victim,” Beverly answered slightly ahead of Jayne.

  “You stop them by standing up for yourself,” Jayne said.

  AJ’s distraction was all Sawyer needed. With her body turned, Sawyer lashed out and connected a wicked right cross to the old doctor’s jaw, cracking bone. Doctor Amanda Jayne stood no chance and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

  “Whoa! What the hell was that for? She’s an old lady. You can’t do that to her!” AJ pushed his chair forward and launched himself onto the ground next to Jayne. Blood streamed from a long gash along her forehead.

  “You should know better than to involve the chattel, Beltigerskian.” Sawyer kicked AJ in the side, pushing him unceremoniously into Jayne. “I’ve been watching this place ever since the rocket parts were delivered. Turning you in should get me enough creds to make a real fine nest back home.”

  “Look, man. I don’t know what your issue is, but you hurt the doctor here,” AJ said. “We need to get her medical attention. She hit her head on the way down. She could bleed out.”